


Uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal

by Emerald_Mischief



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentioned Steve Rogers, Oh My God, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, What Have I Done, this is me venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Mischief/pseuds/Emerald_Mischief
Summary: He would tell 5 lies and all of them would be smiles.





	Uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal

70\. There was 70 people in the room now. Loud. Crowded. Hot. They were all talking at once, shouting out their ideas, their voices climbed in excitement when Tony Stark stepped out onto the stage.

71\. There was 71 people now in the room and not a damn face he recognized. His breath shuttered when he drew it in, it shook his lungs, made his heartbeat stutter with anxiety. They were all expecting some incredible speech about the new Iron Man suit and a dozen or more sassy remarks about the recent fight between him and Captain America. Steve. Steve Rogers. One more.

72\. People were slowly gathering now that they heard that their favorite witty genius was about to talk, the announcer said his name with more emphasis than he really needed to, people either hated him or loved him, they knew his name but neither group knew him. He was standing slightly to the side of the gathered presenters, suited nicely, chucks on his feet as usual, he made sure his face was neutral. A soft smirk playing on the corner of his lips as he took in another unsteady breath, act cool, you’ve done this before. This is just one more battle. Another one.

73\. A redhead walked into the room, dressed in blue, her hair half up to reveal her slender neck and shoulders, freckled, a memory. Tony approached the microphone, bloodshot eyes decorated with hours of fretting and weeks of missed sleep scanned the room, beautiful and broken. He opened his mouth, his gums hurt when he smiled, brushing them too hard to wash away the taste of..what was her name? Didn’t matter, she knew his, or he thought so. He shifted, calloused, oil stained hands grabbed onto the microphone stand, ringing the neck of it before closing his mouth. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, the words stuck in his throat, his heart had taken on the wings of a hummingbird. 

80\. As he choked in front of the gathering crowd, it got louder again, this time Tony wasn’t sure if it was all in his head or if it was in the room, there was no one he knew in the room. Questioned were being asked, shouted at him, a hand on his shoulder made him jump and stare wide eyed at the man that had previously stated his name. What was his name? He didn’t know their names. Why did everyone know his? He wanted to disappear, he wanted to be Anthony Stark, part-time inventor, full-time something-less-impressive-but-still-paid-well. He gasped, moving to step back from the growing crowd, “I can’t. You got this right? I have to go.” he spat out, it was his go to, everyone could handle everything without him, he made everything worse even when he tried to make it better. 

90\. He was pretty sure that was his heart rate at this point, his pulse fluttered heavily against the side of his neck, it was too fast, too hard, too much, too little. He stumbled on numb feet off the stage and towards the back exit, hands pulling, clawing at his tie and that damn too tight top button that everyone insisted looked smart all done up but really it just was meant to keep you from slouching. He grabbed onto the handle to lead him into a different hallway, this one was crowded by catering, he looked around at the concerned faces and smiled softly at them. “Sorry, yeah I think they’re totally ready for you guys out there, feed the lions before they pounce.” he laughed, humor to cover up his slowly building mental break down. They laughed with him, did they really not see the redness in his eyes? Did they really not see the way he strained to breathe? Did they really not see him at all? 

91\. He peeled himself from the wall to carefully, counting his steps, head to the elevator. “Tony!” there was a shout behind him, he missed it the first dozen times but that one he caught. He stopped, shooting a glance over his shoulder, shit. It was whats her name. The one he washed off his sheets, scrubbed from his skin, brushed off his teeth and drank scalding hot coffee to get over the taste of strawberry lip gloss and expensive lipstick that was made by being cruel to animals. He turned to look at her, an eyebrow crooked upward in question, “do you remember me?” she asked as she came bouncing up to him, literally, bouncing. She bounced, her chest did and it distracted him for a split second before he shook his head, “no, I mean yes, but I can’t remember your name. I would apologize but I feel like you didn’t tell me what it was.” did anyone really see him? Hear him? Did anyone care? “I didn’t so your apology would be wasted. Whatcha doin?” she asked, her voice was grating. He frowned, “leaving.” he stated, turning to walk into the elevator, “can I com–“ he shut the doors on her words, he didn’t do subtle. 

92\. He was beginning to wonder why this always happened, he drank, he went out, found a pretty girl, snorted whatever she wanted off her chest, they fucked and he kicked her out. He would lay awake all night long, counting the breaths he took while he was alone, he counted the tears, the tears that fell before he woke up the next morning with a killer headache, a mostly naked young thing on his sofa and the serious lack of friends to torture him with loud quips while he battled a hangover. He was alone and he made it that way. It was once again exactly what he didn’t want and couldn’t afford to have and now he was tearing himself apart looking for ways to fix things that he couldn’t possibly fix. He covered his face as tears gathered in his eyes, it didn’t matter now though did it? The press was having a field day and he would be the center of more attention he didn’t want, again. He would get the heavy sighs and worried shakes of heads, the heated whispers of rumors crowding his everyday life. He wiped his weathered skin clear of any tears that might have carelessly dropped. 

100\. He ran into people on the way out, he refused autographs, refused comments, refused, refused, refused. None of that would make them think about him anymore or in any positive way, no, they didn’t matter anyway. He slid into his car and immediately started it up, it was a good thing his car only had two seats and no one could have snuck into it or else he would be seriously thinking about crashing it into the next concrete barrier. Not to say he wasn’t considering it a good idea anyway. He gripped the wheel, pulling out with a loud squeal of tires on pavement, he didn’t stick around after he fucked things up, he just left, he was good for that, leaving his mess behind for others to clean up. It was better that way, desert them before they desert you, that was the motto. Alone was good, he felt safe alone and yet he was more destructive than anyone could ever imagine while alone. At least it was only him he was truly hurting, he lost everyone anyway, on his own accord. It was all his fault. 

1\. The house was empty. Every one of the rooms was void of any and all human and Godly forms. Alone. He unlocked the door, kicking off his shoes and immediately heading to his liquor cabinet. He poured himself a stiff one, padding his way into his bathroom, the pills were still sitting on the sink. No one was around to hide them from him. 

2\. He took two. Two of every possible pill in the cabinet that had his name on it. He made himself another drink before heading to the shower. 

3\. It was the third shower he took that day, it was only noon and it wouldn’t be the last one he forced himself into.

4\. He would wait 4 weeks before turning on the TV, answering any phone calls, any knocks at his door. 

5\. He would tell 5 lies and all of them would be smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the counting, I heard once it helps with anxiety. It practically wrote itself. I'm working through some stuff and Tony seems to be the muse I go to for that. Any mistakes are mine, I don't own Tony Stark. Thanks for reading~


End file.
